Page 43 of Mack

But Mack wasn’t Troy. No one could fake what he’d told her about Juliette, how his voice had gone careful and controlled around the edges of something that still made him angry. That was real. That was a man who understood.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wind rattle the glass. She pulled the blanket up and thought about a dark road winding between two towns. She didn’t sleep for a long time.

Chapter Seven

Mack entered the courthouse Monday morning and pushed through the department door. The front counter was empty. He grinned and shook his head. Betty Lou would be in when she felt like it and Sam would say nothing about it, and everyone knew it.

He hung his hat and coat in his office, settled into his chair, and turned on the computer. He had reports to finish on the Copper Ridge accident.

The one that had pulled him away from Mallory at the worst possible moment.

He’d been out there until one in the morning, keeping traffic moving while the scene was cleared, the temperature dropping the whole time. Two vehicles, black ice, nobody killed but it had been close. By the time he got home his hands were stiff with cold and he’d sat in his truck in the driveway for a few minutes just letting the heat run.

He’d wanted to call her. It had been too late.

Mack pushed back from his desk and headed to the small breakroom to make coffee.

“Hey, I was just coming to do that,” Deputy Brody Morgan said, appearing in the doorway.

“I got it.” Mack found a pack of coffee, put the filter in, added the grounds, and hit brew, then folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. “How’s Madilyn and the kids?”

Brody grinned. “Wonderful. You need a few of your own, Mack.”

“I’d love that. One day maybe.”

“Better hurry up,” Sam said, sticking his head in the door. “Your ass is on a downhill slide.”

“No shit,” Mack muttered. He looked at Sam. “Could we talk when you get a minute?”

Sam’s expression shifted slightly, just enough to show he understood the weight of it. “Of course. Let me get settled and come on back.”

“Alright.”

Mack filled his cup and walked to Sam’s office, knocking on the door frame. Sam waved him in and he settled into one of the oak chairs across from the desk.

“You wanted to talk?” Sam clasped his hands on the desk.

Mack stared into his coffee for a moment, then raised his head. He opened his mouth, closed it, then cleared his throat.

“I’m going to stay.”

Sam looked at him. Nothing showing on his face, which was what made him a good sheriff. Then he sat back, folded his arms, and nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it.” He tilted his head. “What made you decide?”

Mack watched Sam fight to keep the grin off his face and lose.

“If we weren’t in the office I’d say fuck you, Sam, but here we are.”

Sam laughed. “Here we are.”

Mack stood. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yep.” Sam leaned back. “Hey, how long were you out on Copper Ridge Saturday?”

“After two before I got home. Two injured, no fatalities.”

“Well, that’s something for that road.”